


i bet you didn't know that i was dangerous

by catteo



Series: it must be fate, i found a place for us [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, ali made me do this, alternative universe, bakshi is a bad man, grant is too cocky for his own good, she just wants to dance, skye doesn't have time for your bs, trip is the best bartender in history, what's up with rosie?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3426692">you understand i've got a plan for us</a>, but the wondrous <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea">serenitysea</a> in which Grant owns <i>Hydra</i>, the best club in town, Skye is the complete package, and they really get off to a rocky start. Also, Bakshi has done something terrible to Rosie, Grant's little sister, and now he's macking on Skye. This probably isn't going to end well. </p>
<p>I am sorry to say that this is entirely lacking in smut. The next part will more than make up for it though. I promise.</p>
    </blockquote>





	i bet you didn't know that i was dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to [you understand i've got a plan for us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3426692), but the wondrous [serenitysea](http://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea) in which Grant owns _Hydra_ , the best club in town, Skye is the complete package, and they really get off to a rocky start. Also, Bakshi has done something terrible to Rosie, Grant's little sister, and now he's macking on Skye. This probably isn't going to end well. 
> 
> I am sorry to say that this is entirely lacking in smut. The next part will more than make up for it though. I promise.

“It’s really not that hilarious, Trip.” Grant takes a sip of his water in a futile attempt to calm his racing pulse. Trip manfully tries to suppress his laughter, but all he really manages to do is convert his hysteria to barely contained hiccups. Grant wouldn’t let anyone else get away with this, but Trip’s the best bartender Grant’s found. And pretty much the closest thing he’s ever had to a best friend.

 

 

 

 

 

“Whatever you say, Grant.” Trip’s grin is bright in the dark of the club. “Looks like she’s back though, if you’re up for round two.” Trip gestures in the direction of the bathrooms, from where Black Dress -- _Skye_ , his brain helpfully informs him -- is emerging. She’s twisted her hair up off her neck, dark tendrils sticking to her bare shoulders and, even at this distance, he can see the light sheen of sweat that makes her body glow in the dim light. Grant’s mouth is suddenly dry. There’s a droplet of moisture on Skye’s collarbone and he has a vivid mental image of sliding his tongue across her skin, salt-slick and hot. He absentmindedly rubs at the spot on his thigh that still smarts from Skye’s earlier attention. He shakes his head slightly in an attempt to clear it of the thought of her sliding her mouth over the bruise he’s sure he’ll find there later.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hmm, what?” Grant realizes that Trip’s talking to him. He tears his eyes reluctantly away from Skye as she heads back towards the dance floor. She doesn’t even look in his direction. He doesn’t care.

 

 

 

 

 

_He doesn’t._

 

 

 

 

 

“Trouble.” Trip’s staring towards the main doors. Grant follows the direction of his gaze and feels his hands instinctively curl into fists as he sees the man entering the club.

 

 

 

 

 

“Bakshi.” Grant’s tone is flat as he recognises the dark-haired man walking in. _Hydra_ is the club of the moment, the place to see and be seen, but Bakshi’s doing everything in his power to upset Grant’s momentum. _Whitehall_ is old news though, and none of Bakshi’s attempts to undermine Grant’s grip on the club scene have worked. It doesn’t mean that Grant wants to deal with the man. Even on home turf.

 

 

 

 

 

“You want me to let the boys know not to serve him?” Trip’s eyes have narrowed. Grant knows that Trip’s never going to forgive Bakshi for what he did to Rosie, and the knowledge that someone else is looking out for his little sister is enough to put him in a more charitable mood.

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s not stoop to his level, Trip. Treat him like any other guest.” Grant pauses, thinks about it for a second. “Just make sure you serve him the cheap crap and charge him double.” Grant’s smile is vicious, and Trip nods his acknowledgement, walking to the other end of the bar to spread the word. Grant spares Bakshi one last glance before he leans an elbow on the bar and turns back to watch the dancers. Skye’s almost completely hidden from view now, surrounded by a group of guys who are barely bothering to hide their stares, the occasional one brave enough to risk dancing into her orbit. Skye’s oblivious to it, lost in the music, eyes closed, hips swaying to the beat and arms twining in the air.

 

 

 

 

 

One of the idiots, who clearly wouldn’t know rhythm if it came up and punched him in the face, falls against Skye. She stumbles slightly and, before he really knows what he’s doing, Grant’s three paces away from the bar. Three strides closer to _her_. He knows the exact moment that she sees him move. Her eyes lock with his, one corner of her mouth hitching in a sly grin.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s not unaware of the effect that she’s having on the hormone-driven idiots that surround her. But she’s here to dance, not to be arm candy for one of these assholes with more money than sense. She’s not that fussed as long as they keep their distance, but one of them clearly didn’t get the memo. He attempts to execute some sort of spin that ends with him slamming straight into her. Skye somehow manages to stay on her feet, but it snaps her out of her bubble, and she sees movement out of the corner of her eye.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s forced to admit that it’s impressive, the speed with which GQ’s on his way to rescue her. The way his jaw clenches only emphasizes the way that the light skates across the planes of his face, highlighting cheekbones that could cut glass. But she’s not a damsel in distress and, in case she hadn’t made it clear enough earlier, she’s definitely not interested. Not in the way his eyes follow her every movement, not in the way his pristine white shirt strains slightly across his shoulders as he clenches his fists. She’s really not interested in the way his body felt when he pulled her up against him, firm and unyielding.

 

 

 

 

 

Definitely not.

 

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t mean she can’t have a little fun at his expense though. Skye lifts her chin and fixes her eyes with his, ignoring the way her pulse hitches under his gaze. It feels as though he’s practically undressing her with his eyes, and Skye catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks about his tongue running across her skin, stubble scratching against soft flesh. Skye eases back into the beat, hips rolling to the pulse that races through her veins. She arches an eyebrow, tries her best to suppress a grin, and very deliberately runs her hands up her own body. One palm traces the curve of a breast, before sliding up her neck and around to release the tie that holds her hair up in its messy bun. She doesn’t take her eyes from his as she runs her fingers through the loose curls. Skye’s pretty gratified by the way he takes what appears to be an involuntary half-step towards her.

 

 

 

 

 

That’s the point at which Skye makes her move, sashaying across the floor with just a little more sway in her hips than is strictly necessary. Skye can see him try to fight back a smile, one cheek dimpling as he starts to lose the battle. And it’s not as though she can’t admit that the guy is hot. Like, smoking hot. Skye’s pretty sure that if you looked up ‘tall, dark and handsome’ you’d find a photo of this one, intense gaze and all. Sadly he’s probably also the illustration to the entry marked ‘arrogant and condescending’. Skye’s a big enough person to admit to herself that it’s a real pity, since he’s already proved that he can _move_. It’s been forever since Skye found a guy who could keep up.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s about six feet away from the guy, close enough that he stands a little straighter and stops trying to hide his smile. For a second she wavers in her intentions. He really _is_ more attractive than anyone has a right to be, and she’s irritated at his presumption that she’d fall at his feet; she’s not _blind_. But she gathers her resolve, turns at the last second and slides past him with a smile of exaggerated innocence, as though she had no idea what she was doing.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m Grant.” His voice reaches her, smooth, liquid honey that dances with the music in her blood.

 

 

 

 

 

“How delightful for you.” Skye flings the words over her shoulder as she breezes past.

 

 

 

 

 

He nods slightly, eyes sparking with barely contained amusement. Skye realizes in that moment that she may just have seriously misjudged things. She’s sure that he chuckles as she slides past him and, although there’s no way she could have heard it over the pounding of the bass, Skye feels his laughter drift across her skin. She risks a look back over her shoulder and he’s openly grinning at her now, nothing on his face but admiration and a hint of something more. Skye tells herself that it isn’t desire that swirls in her gut, slowly unfurling along every inch of her.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Grant watches as Skye slinks across to the other side of the room. He only just manages to resist the urge to follow her, to put his hands back on her hips and pull her up against him once again. Some blonde drifts over to him, pulling a friend along with her, and positions herself right in his line of sight. He feels soft skin pressed against his side, but he just shakes his head and turns back towards the bar. There’s a muffled exclamation of disappointment as he leaves, but he’s totally caught up in his thoughts of Skye and doesn’t even notice.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, that was positively embarrassing to watch.” Trip’s far more delighted about this than he should be.

 

 

 

 

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Grant aims for blasé, but fails miserably if Trip’s smirk is anything to go by.

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh come on, Grant. You’re not used to being snubbed. There is literally _one_ girl in the club that’s impervious to your charm and so she’s the only one you want. Could you _be_ more predictable?” Trip shakes his head and busies himself wiping down the bar.

 

 

 

 

 

“Nothing wrong with that. I like a challenge.” Grant knocks back the last of his water before grabbing his jacket from behind the bar and heading towards the stairs that lead to his office.

 

 

 

 

 

“You _are_ a challenge.” Trip’s voice follows him across the room.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Grant absolutely doesn’t stand at the floor-to-ceiling glass panels that line his office and search the crowd for Skye. It’s just that the crowd seems to be drawn to her, and he’s always alert for trouble. If it’s going to happen then there’s usually a catalyst. Grant’s absolutely certain that Skye has the potential to cause all kinds of chaos. The relief that he feels as he sees her, still holding court on the dance floor, is vaguely alarming. He does his best to ignore it.

 

 

 

 

 

That’s when he sees Bakshi, arms crossed, leaning against the back wall and staring at Skye. Practically undressing her with his eyes. The wave of jealousy that washes through Grant is totally unexpected. He doesn’t get jealous. He just gets over it. But the thought of Bakshi putting his hands on Skye makes Grant sick to his stomach. Especially after what Bakshi did to Rosie. The guy’s lucky he’s still breathing. If it had been up to Grant he probably wouldn’t be - only Thomas and Trip’s timely intervention stopping Grant from landing a final punch that would probably have finished Bakshi off. Some days Grant regrets the fact that they pulled him away. Other days he’s grateful that he’s not in jail. Today being one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s down the stairs in moments, sliding through the crowd with an ease borne of long practice. Skye’s apparently oblivious to the effect that she’s having on the men that surround her, still lost to the beat. Grant narrows his eyes at a frat boy who looks as though he’s about to grind his hips into Skye’s ass and the guy puts his hands up in mock surrender and moves away. Grant doesn’t bother pretending that he doesn’t like the fact that he’s the one in charge here. In moments like this there’s a definite benefit to being the guy that looks like he could kill you in a heartbeat.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant stays a respectful four feet away from Skye. Doesn’t try to touch her. Positions himself at her back so that he can glare at Bakshi over her shoulder, whilst simultaneously stopping any other overly eager hormone-driven losers from trying to disturb her. Grant’s silently congratulating himself on a job well done when Skye abruptly stops dancing and spins to face him.

 

 

 

 

 

“What are you doing?” She sounds more intrigued than pissed off. Grant counts that as a definite bonus.

 

 

 

 

 

“Protecting you?” It’s halfway out of his mouth before Grant realizes what an epically stupid thing it is to say. The last word is almost lost in a combination of the music and Skye’s laughter. It’s not the restrained laugh of a girl trying not to ruin her image that he’s so used to hearing, and Grant can’t fight back his own smile. Skye’s nose crinkles, eyes creasing as she throws her head back and lets out a peal of mirth so full of delight that it makes him want to do or say anything just to hear it again.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, Grant,” Skye drawls his name once she’s gotten her giggles under control -- Grant tries, and fails, not to be completely turned on by the way his name sounds on her tongue -- “I don’t think that I really need your protection. Surely there must be an _actual_ damsel in _genuine_ distress somewhere who would be far more flattered by your attention.” Skye leans towards him, and Grant tries to keep his eyes away from the smooth expanse of warm skin that’s almost pressed up against him. His eyes slide closed at the heat of her hand on his arm. “I can take care of myself.” She whispers it against his skin. The heat of her breath on his neck tickles, and goosebumps erupt over every inch of his body. She pats his cheek condescendingly with one hand and spins out of reach, leaving him fighting to regain his equilibrium.

 

 

 

 

 

He can see Trip giving him a thumbs-up from the bar. Grant seriously considers docking his wages.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s more amused by Grant’s white knight routine than anything else. But it wouldn’t do to have him know that she’s actually kind of enjoying driving him nuts. The way that he looks at her makes her uncomfortably warm; makes her skin feel three sizes too small. Skye smooths a hand down her dress, straightens the hem slightly, deliberately sliding her palms across her ass as she does. She thinks that she hears a muffled groan from Grant’s general direction, but she doesn’t look back. She’s too busy proving a point.

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a guy leaning against the back wall, arms crossed, eyes watchful. He grins as Skye looks over, an edge to his expression that’s slightly worrying. Skye ignores the message that her body’s trying to send her in favor of sending a much more important message to Grant. She plasters a smile onto her face and heads towards the stranger.

 

 

 

 

 

“You just here to watch, or do you want to dance?” Skye finds that direct works pretty well most of the time. She’s not really interested in conversation after all -- just wants to see what Grant’s going to do. Which is ridiculous. She’s really not interested in that arrogant bastard, with his assumptions about buying people drinks in the expectation that they’ll fall into bed with him. She’s met plenty of Grants in her life, and she really doesn’t need any more. Her brain helpfully supplies her with the instant replay of earlier -- Grant’s hands firm on her hips, his body molded against hers, the promise of strength in the muscles under her fingers, and the hissed exhale that sounded like more pleasure than pain -- but Skye takes a moment to clear her head, and focuses on the task at hand.

 

 

 

 

 

“You sure your boyfriend won’t mind?” The stranger’s voice is smooth, and the accompanying look he shoots Grant’s way sets alarm bells ringing in Skye’s head. She’s committed now though, can’t turn back.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not my boyfriend.” Skye shakes her head.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well okay than. Let’s dance.” The way that he grips her arm is a shade more possessive than Skye would like. “What’s your name?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Daisy.” The lie is second nature to her these days. “Yours?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Sunil.” He steps flush against her as he says it, and Skye forces a smile to her face. Reminds herself that this won’t last long. Grant will get the idea and then he’ll get lost. Nobody’s that much of a glutton for punishment.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

It’s typical, of course, that Skye would pick as a piece in her game the one guy in the whole club that Grant actually despises. Grant can take a hint though, moves away from the dancefloor, leaving Skye the space that she’s so clearly after. He doesn’t go far though, not trusting Bakshi out of his sight. It starts off without incident, Sunil keeping a relatively respectful distance, seemingly content just to let Skye do her thing.

 

 

 

 

 

But then the bass drops, and Grant thinks that he’s almost certainly going to have to fire the DJ as well as Trip. This could be bad for business.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye’s liquid motion, spinning in a world of her own, and every so often he catches a glimpse of her face, an expression of pure delight that makes her seem lit from within. Grant’s fingers itch to trace the smile on her lips and tangle in her hair. He wants nothing more than to cross the space between them and slide into the spaces around her. To wrap her joy around the both of them like a cocoon and forget the world outside.

 

 

 

 

 

Bakshi clearly has similar ideas and, unfortunately, he also has Skye’s invitation to dance. Grant’s seriously regretting the amateur move he pulled earlier, and he can feel his mood darken as he watches Bakshi run his hand up the bare skin of Skye’s thigh. Skye spins neatly round, twisting her hip just out of Bakshi’s reach. It’s subtle enough that it doesn’t look deliberate, but Grant sees the way that her limbs stiffen just a little. Like her body already knows that she can’t afford to let her guard down. He’s becoming more impressed by the second.

 

 

 

 

 

Bakshi’s obviously not in the mood to be denied though, wraps his arms firmly across Skye’s shoulders and pulls her back against him. Grant forces himself to relax, abruptly noticing the sting in his palms as his nails etch half-moon prints into his own skin. Skye manages to twist in Bakshi’s grasp so that she’s facing him and she offers him a teasing smile before shaking a finger at him and turning to walk away. Bakshi grabs her hand as she turns though, pulls her back into his arms, clearly not willing to take no for an answer. Grant has no intention of seeing how this little charade plays out and beckons security over with a slight lift of his chin and an eyebrow raise.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Skye is not actually enjoying herself any more. She pretty much crossed the line between having fun and being incredibly irritated half a song ago. This guy won’t take no for an answer, and every time she tries to leave he keeps dragging her back. She’s been here before though and knows that she just needs to wait for him to get bored. Eventually she’ll just start to drift aimlessly out of time with the music, claim that she’s parched, and drag him to the bar. Where she has every intention of leaving him. First, though, she’s got to get him there.

 

 

 

 

 

She’s also very aware of the fact that Grant hasn’t taken his eyes off her this whole time. Skye’s a big enough person to admit to herself that she’d much rather be dancing with him than this asshole right now. Sadly she’s made her choice and now she has to live with it. Skye catches a glimpse of motion out of the corner of her eye and turns her head to see that Grant’s summoned two security guards, currently pushing their way through the crowd. As though that has any chance of making this situation better. Skye really wonders about men sometimes. They just need to seriously check their egos at the door. She has this handled.

 

 

 

 

 

Bakshi chooses that moment, clearly some subconscious instinct telling him that Skye’s off her guard, to slide his hand over a breast in a move that Skye definitely doesn’t appreciate. She reaches up and twists her fingers with his, pulling his hand back down to safer territory as she turns back to face him. The problem with that is that she now has to face him, confront the way that his eyes narrow, calculating, as he looks down at her. Skye gets the uncomfortable feeling that she’s nothing more than an object to be toyed with to this guy. She gestures that she needs a drink, but gets nothing more than the shake of head and a hand on her ass for her troubles. Skye’s about to execute an accidental elbow to the solar plexus when Bakshi’s face contorts in pain and he arches away from her. Skye realizes that Grant has her tormentor’s arm twisted up behind him, his shoulder twisted up at an angle that makes Skye feel vaguely nauseated.

 

 

 

 

 

“Sorry, Skye. I forgot to take out the trash.” Grant says it as though they’re buddies. As though they have an understanding and he’s not just some guy that’s been following her around his club like a lost puppy for the last forty minutes. As far as Skye’s concerned the two of them are almost as bad as each other.

 

 

 

 

 

“I had it handled.” Skye’s not entirely sure about the truth of that statement, but she’s gotten herself out of trickier situations than that before. She has no intention of letting Grant think that she didn’t have this situation totally under control.

 

 

 

 

 

“I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt, Bakshi.” Grant addresses the man in his grasp in a tone that leaves no doubt as to the bad blood between them. “But if you ever show your face in here again you’ll be leaving a piece at a time. I have no problem with finishing what I started.” Skye’s absolutely not dying to know what the hell that’s all about. She’s not. She doesn’t care. She’s going to have another drink and then she’s going to find someone a little less likely to assault her to dance with.

 

 

 

 

 

“You two clearly don’t need a witness to this, so I’m going to leave you to it.” Skye’s starting to walk away as security finally reach them.

 

 

 

 

 

“Get rid of this asshole for me. I don’t want to see him in here again.” Grant’s voice is low, rough with barely contained emotion, and Skye’s intrigued despite herself. She keeps walking though, determined not to give Grant the satisfaction of letting him know that she cares about any of this. She’s suddenly aware that her hands are shaking.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye. Hey, Skye!” Grant’s voice moves closer as he tries to get her attention. Skye pretends that she can’t hear him -- how the hell does he know her name anyway -- and keeps striding towards the bar. Her friendly bartender from earlier shoots her a slightly concerned look as he slides a vodka and grapefruit juice across the bar.

 

 

 

 

 

“This one’s on me, okay? You look like you could use it after that showdown.” All that Skye hears in his voice in genuine concern and, instead of refusing the drink as her usual strict policy dictates, she just nods her thanks and takes a large gulp, relishing the burn of the alcohol in the back of her throat and the comforting warmth in her gut.

 

 

 

 

 

“Thanks…” Skye gives him a querying look as she says it, and waits expectantly.

 

 

 

 

 

“Trip.” He puts out a hand for her to shake.

 

 

 

 

 

“Skye. Thanks for the drink. Again.” Skye’s taking another sip when she hears someone clearing their throat directly behind her. She lets out an exasperated exhale, knowing before she turns around that she’s going to find Grant standing there with some sort of irritated look on his face. As it turns out, she’s only half right. It’s Grant, but he looks completely delighted more than anything else. She’s even more disconcerted when he leans across the bar to exchange a high five with Trip.

 

 

 

 

 

“What the hell was that?” Skye’s still rattled from the way that Bakshi manhandled her and, well, Grant’s irritatingly chipper about the whole thing. It’s pissing her off.

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re welcome.” Grant toasts her with a drink that looks suspiciously like soda water. For some reason she just finds the whole thing utterly annoying. She’s sure that it has nothing to do with the way that her body’s trying to tell her that she really wants to run a finger down the stubble on his jaw, just to see how it feels.

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m welcome? Are you kidding me?” This is better. This is familiar territory. Skye knows how this dance goes. “I didn’t ask you to save me and, by the way, this whole stalker routine you’ve got going on is so last century.” For some reason Grant’s grin just gets broader. Skye really, _really_ wants to do something about it. The problem is that she’s not sure if she wants to punch him or slam her mouth against his.

 

 

 

 

 

“Well, sorry for trying to help.” Grant sounds the complete opposite of sorry. His teeth are really even. And white. Skye wrestles her brain back on task with some difficulty.

 

 

 

 

 

“You weren’t actually helping. You do _get_ that, right?” Skye’s not sure that anything she could say is going to make any difference at this point since Trip is now barely managing to suppress a grin of his own. They’re like children. “You made that whole thing a million times worse. I had it handled.” Skye knocks back the last of her drink. “Now, I’m going dancing, and you? You’re going to leave me alone.” She can feel Grant’s eyes on her the entire way across the room.

 

 

 

 

 

This time everyone keeps a respectful distance. Which, frankly, is ruining Skye’s night. She’s pleasantly buzzed and all she really wants to do is have some fun, and maybe a little dirty dancing. She’s beginning to regret brushing Grant off earlier. Despite his less than promising pick-up lines, the way that he moved his hips suggested that he would be an excellent prospect off the dance floor. If only she could get over his attitude. And the fact that he’s clearly a complete womanizer. Nobody uses that line unless they’re used to having it work. The guy probably has an _actual_ little black book. Skye sighs as yet another group of guys looks anxiously in Grant’s direction before clearing off to the other side of the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Skye makes the mistake of looking over at the bar. Grant’s got his shirtsleeves pushed up to his elbows, somehow only serving to emphasize the muscles that cord his forearms. Even from this distance Skye can see the cotton stretching across his chest as he turns slightly towards Trip, head thrown back in enthusiastic laughter. The jackass is probably laughing at her newfound pariah status.

 

 

 

 

 

Almost as though he _knows_ that she’s thinking about him, Grant turns his head and stares at her. He resumes his previous position against the bar. Skye’s always wondered what people mean when they talk about ‘lounging’ against something and she’s pretty certain she’s got her answer. Grant just leans there, looking as though he’s having the greatest time and doesn’t have a care in the world. And he’s fucking _smirking_ at her. Skye stops even the pretense of dancing at that point, just stands there, surrounded by heaving bodies, and crosses her arms. That’s when he winks at her.

 

 

 

 

 

And she’s not letting him get away with that.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

 

Grant’s really enjoying watching Skye dance. _Really_ enjoying it. Her dress is a masterpiece -- fitted black satin that clings in all the right places with cut-out panels that show tantalizing flashes of skin -- and the way that she moves is mesmerizing. Grant’s not exactly a saint, owning a club tends to make you irresistible to certain women, and he’s not really the type to call in the morning. It’s an arrangement that suits him pretty well, and it means he’s no stranger to the lure of a pretty face. Skye, though, seems different in a way he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s not only that she’s legitimately beautiful, confident in her own skin in a way he’s not used to seeing in here, but that there’s a strength that radiates off her. Not only in the way she moves or the way she dances, but also the way that she knows her own worth. And clearly she’s worked out that she’s worth way more than Grant Douglas Ward. It’s not going to stop him having some fun though.

 

 

 

 

 

“Grant, my friend, your poker face needs some work.” Trip’s appears at his elbow.

 

 

 

 

 

“Who says this is my poker face?” Grant laughs as Trip rolls his eyes. “This is my ‘you’re the most interesting person I’ve met in as long as I can remember’ face. I’m not surprised you don’t recognize it though since I’d have literally _no_ reason to use it around you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re such an ass, Grant. No wonder you can’t manage to get a girl to stay for more than a night.” Trip shakes his head, as though he can’t believe that he’s saddled with Grant for a friend. “Still, I’m not sure that your intervention was appreciated. Probably you’re going home alone as well as waking up alone. Sucks to be you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Oh, come on, what possible reason could she have for being mad? Bakshi had his hands all over her, and you and I are both more than aware of how that ends. She’d thank me if she knew what he was like.” Ward smiles as he recalls the pleasure of inflicting bodily injury on Bakshi.

 

 

 

 

 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Trip’s voice is skeptical.

 

 

 

 

 

Grant looks across at the dancers and sees Skye, standing like a statue amongst the sea of people, staring right at him. When he thinks back, Grant’s only defense is that it’s something of a reflex -- he winks at her. “See, Trip, she’s totally coming to thank me.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Wouldn’t count on it.” With that cryptic statement, Trip makes himself scarce.

 

 

 

 

 

“I suppose you’re pretty proud of yourself, are you?” Skye’s voice is deadly and Grant realizes that perhaps Trip’s a bit more astute than Grant gives him credit for.

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Grant decides that feigning ignorance is probably his best bet at this stage. Skye’s eyes narrow as he says it, her features fierce, a warrior princess standing before him. He can feel his mouth twitching up at the corners at the sudden thought that he could worship at her feet, and he tries his best to clamp down on the smile that’s trying to escape.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, Grant, you know exactly what I mean. Nobody will come near me now, thanks to your little display of machismo. They all think that I fucking belong to you now.” Skye pauses, clearly searching for a way to accurately express her displeasure. “As though I’m a fire hydrant you just decided to piss all over.” Heads turn in their direction at this last statement. Grant has to admit that it’s a pretty poetic analogy all things considered. Also, the thought of Skye actually belonging to him is at once ridiculous and something that he wants so badly that he can almost taste it. He feels the moment that his barely contained smirk blossoms into a full-blown grin.

 

 

 

 

 

That’s when Skye punches him in the stomach.

 


End file.
